<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>No Good Fathers, Only Men Trying Their Best by PaleNoFace</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250699">No Good Fathers, Only Men Trying Their Best</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleNoFace/pseuds/PaleNoFace'>PaleNoFace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smeet Army AU [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Invader Zim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>3+1 times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Cute GIR (Invader Zim), Dib Has Issues (Invader Zim), Dib Is Not Okay, Dib Is Trying but it's HARD, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, Grocery Shopping, Identity Issues, Idiots in Love, M/M, Medication, Mood Swings, Neglect As A Form of Self-Harm, Older Dib (Invader Zim), POV Dib (Invader Zim), Parent Dib (Invader Zim), Parent Zim (Invader Zim), Sleepy Cuddles, Tall Zim (Invader Zim), They're Not Okay But They're Trying, Zim Also Has Issues (Invader Zim), artie having a near-meltdown in the middle of the convenience store, how to hate your sister's guts despite being ready to die for her : a little guide by gus, showering is self-care</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:22:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleNoFace/pseuds/PaleNoFace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Dib had to be the responsible adult, and one time Zim took over.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dib (Invader Zim) &amp; Original Character(s), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smeet Army AU [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Moop Bugs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Feat. Zim having an emotional breakdown, Dib being a supportive boyfriend, and a Narnia reference.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every now and then, Dib is faced with something he can't fix, and not by a lack of trying, mind you. This something is usually announced loud and clear by one little robot's shrilling voice, bouncing up and down in the vents :</p><p> </p><p>"MASTER GOT THE MOOP BUGS !"</p><p> </p><p>And this, along with the inevitable marching of time and the unavoidable threat of death, is the thing Dib fears most of all. Because it means he has to stalk down the hallways and hunt his mate out of whatever tiny nook he holed himself into, and it's always very long and frustrating because Zim is surprisingly good at hide-and-seek when he's going through one of his depressive episodes, and very determined to not be found.</p><p> </p><p>A good thing Dib is more obstinated than him.</p><p> </p><p>"What's going on ?" Artie asks, passing his head through the doorway, Gus' tiny frame poking just behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Dib crouches to be at face level with them, schooling his scowling expression into something more family-friendly.</p><p> </p><p>"I need to take care of Zim for a little while. Can you make sure GIR and Noods aren't alone in the same room ?"</p><p> </p><p>Gus squints in consideration, like he's genuinely wondering if he can stop his sister from causing problems on purpose, but Artie nods.</p><p> </p><p>"Is Pa going to be okay ?" the bigger smeet asks, voice wobbly and uncertain.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I... Yeah. He'll be fine. Are you gonna be okay by yourselves today ?"</p><p> </p><p>Gus shrugs, his mouth a thin line of seriousness.</p><p> </p><p>"We have no say in the matter," he replies matter-of-factly, and Dib smirks as he gets back on his feet.</p><p> </p><p>This short moment of good mood, however, doesn't last, because he finally gets his hands on the runaway Invader.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, get out," he glares at the heavy wooden wardrobe (why do they even have this antiquity in the base in the first place ? He thinks it has to do with space-time teleportation, but he's not sure and at this point he's too afraid to ask) under which a single antenna is poking out.</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>"Zim. Come on."</p><p> </p><p>"I said <em>no</em>, you dimwitted waste of organic mass !"</p><p> </p><p>Far from being offended, Dib decides to lay on the ground next to the ridiculously massive piece of furniture.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not leaving this room without you."</p><p> </p><p>The antenna flickers in annoyance and disappears in the darkness. Dib makes himself more comfortable - as comfortable as the cold metallic ground of the base can be - and peers into the shadows.</p><p> </p><p>"Wanna... talk about it ?" he says, his voice too loud in the heavy silence.</p><p> </p><p>"There's nothing to talk about."</p><p> </p><p>"So you're just hiding under a big-ass wardrobe because you want to ?"</p><p> </p><p>"So what if I am ?" Zim snaps, and Dib sees the shine of two furious scarlet eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He knows better than try to trick the Irken into coming out of there. Zim can be dense, sometimes even dumb, but he knows Dib and his tricks better than anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>At least he's talking to him. Sometimes, when it's worse, Zim goes completely non-verbal and apathetic, and Dib has no clue how to shake him out of this state. But Zim is talking to him, so. It's good enough. He can work with that.</p><p> </p><p>"If you wanna sulk, at least do it where I can hug you."</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>"I swear I'll fit under there just to spite you."</p><p> </p><p>"Then grovel before me, Dib-worm."</p><p> </p><p>He barely blinks at the old nickname.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, that's it. Move over, space boy."</p><p> </p><p>As soon as he wiggles under the stupidly massive piece of furniture, he finds himself with an armful of alien, grumpy and clingy and still spewing insults under him breath. After a few minutes of silence, Dib tries again :</p><p> </p><p>"...You sure you don't wanna talk about it ?"</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay."</p><p> </p><p>A beat. Zim shifts.</p><p> </p><p>"Just- Hold me ? Please ?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Please</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I can do that."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Long Live The King</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feat. Gus and Noods acting like stray cats, Dib being Fucking Done™, and a failed Lion King correction.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<em>I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR HEAD OFF !</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Dib is having a less than stellar day. If life is ups and downs, this is definitely an all-time low. Zim has fucked off somewhere in Vietnam to look for- <em>something</em>, Dib doesn't even know, he doesn't even <em>care</em>, he just knows that he's the only adult around and his kids are fighting big time somewhere in the base and he has to locate them by sound.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally finds which room they're reenacting WW3, it takes him a second to understand what's happening : Noods has her back to the exit (strategically cutting off any possible retreat), spitting and arching her spine, antennae flat on her skull, and when she turns just a little to see who just came in, Dib sees her face is covered in bloody scratches. Dangling from the ceiling by his PAK legs, Gus doesn't look much better, with a large pink bloody stain on the front of his shirt. <em>Fuck, it looks bad,</em> Dib realizes, and immediately decides to step in.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay," he calls on top of all the shouting, "Time out !"</p><p> </p><p>He swiftly sweeps a shrieking-and-kicking Noods off the ground - a year of practice saves him from a severe slashing across the forearm - and grabs Gus the second he propulses himself onto them. The size difference between his hand and the smeet's torso would be a little distressing, but considering Gus' impact is somewhat reminiscent of getting hit by a car, Dib is more concerned about the state of his shoulder than of his seething son.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Enough</em>," he growls, glaring at both Noods - now angrily plowing his chest and stomach with her claws - and Gus - literally frothing at the mouth. "What the fuck is wrong with you two ?!"</p><p> </p><p>"She tried to gut me !" Gus shrills, and fucking Irk he sounds just like Zim. A smaller, angrier version of Zim, which is truly saying something.</p><p> </p><p>He peels Noods from his chest, holding her by the collar of her shirt like an oversized, green kitten. Both of them are now at arm length, and somehow they're still trying to fight, and Dib is starting to get seriously tired of this bullshit.</p><p> </p><p>"I SAID ENOUGH !" he shouts, and the smeets go limp in sync, eyes wide in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>He takes a deep breath, and once he's sure his voice is back to a regular level, he continues. </p><p> </p><p>"You guys really need to knock it off. You can't keep doing this every other day, because at some point one of you is going to seriously hurt the other and it's going to be nasty and I'll have to say "I told you so". You need to <em>stop</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Gus starts squirming in indignation.</p><p> </p><p>"But ! <em>But !</em> She drop-kicked me ! And then she tried to rip my spooch out ! What was I supposed to do ?! Walk away like nothing ?"</p><p> </p><p>Dib sighs. This is going to be long. He sticks one child under each arm and exits the room, because there are definitely some bleeding scratches that need to be taken care of. He valiantly tries to ignore Gus' blood on the palm of his hand.</p><p> </p><p>As he steps into the main lab, Artie glances up from his microscope and then serves them his best bitch-face, the one that says <em>I know exactly what went down and I'm glad I wasn't there to see it</em>. Dib can sympathize.</p><p> </p><p>He plops Noods on the computer chair and Gus on the table, then glares preemptively at the both of them.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm gonna find the first aid kit. If one of you moves as much as an antenna, there'll be Hell to pay."</p><p> </p><p>Gus crosses his arms with a loud huff and Noods just stares sheepishly back at him. Good. They're not going anywhere any time soon.</p><p> </p><p>When he comes back, Artie has left the room (probably to get a snack) and GIR has appeared on Noods' lap. What a luck the robot doesn't have lungs, because the chokehold she has on him is deadly.</p><p> </p><p>Unsurprisingly, Gus is the most banged-up ; there are several scrapes and cuts on his arms, and one deep-ish cut across his chest that is spilling pink blood all over his favorite shirt.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, see what I mean ?" Dib mumbles as he dabs the disinfectant on it, weighting the pros and cons of giving him stitches - then again Gus is a pretty fast healer, so maybe there's no need. "How did she get you but not the shirt, anyway ?"</p><p> </p><p>"Teleportation through fabric !" GIR suggests, but goes mostly unacknowledged.</p><p> </p><p>"She's lucky she didn't nick my shirt, or I would have carved her eyes out !" Gus spits in his sister's direction, who hisses back like the feral goblin she is. "I was dressing up when she found me."</p><p> </p><p>"Well excuse me for favoring my son's health over an old piece of clothing," Dib rolls his eye before taking the shirt and handing him a blanket to snuggle into. "I'll put it to the wash once we're done here."</p><p> </p><p>He turns to Noods, who's eyeing the disinfectant warily, well acquainted with the sting of rubbing alcohol as she is.</p><p> </p><p>"Why did you attack your brother ?" he asks, trying his best not to sound accusing, because he knows that's all she'll pick up on. "You know you shouldn't do that to him. You know that."</p><p> </p><p>She nods, slowly, as the words sink in, and her grip on GIR tightens impossibly more, making the metal creak. GIR wheezes.</p><p> </p><p>The thing is, Noods isn't big on words. The few times she tried to speak, it came out completely incomprehensible. She doesn't write, either, because her mind apparently doesn't add the symbols to the sounds, and drawings are... Complicated to interpret, <em>at best</em>. Most of the time, it's a matter of vague charades, body language, facial expressions and hisses and growls.</p><p> </p><p>And context. Always context.</p><p> </p><p>"What were you doing ?"</p><p> </p><p>She shrugs, then lifts her hands to trace a vaguely square-ish form in the air. GIR, sitting on her thighs, is shaking from a coughing fit.</p><p> </p><p>"You were watching TV ?" Dib guesses, then points at the computer's screen for good mesure. From the enthusiastic nods he recieves, he got it right on the first try.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay... What it a kung-fu movie ? Karate ?"</p><p> </p><p>Artie strolls back in with a candy bar, and says :</p><p> </p><p>"She was watching the Lion King."</p><p> </p><p>Dib arches an eyebrow in his direction. The pudgy smeet shrugs and shoves the snack in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>"The movie is paused in the living room," he explains before waddling back to his experiment. "Long live the King," he stage-whispers after a second, and Noods immediately perks up.</p><p> </p><p>"NO NOT AGAIN-" Gus shrieks, leaping from the table and diving behind Dib, avoiding his sister's tackle by half a second.</p><p> </p><p>Dib, without missing a beat, grabs her mid-air and puts her back on the chair.</p><p> </p><p>"Ooooh, I get it," he drawls, sparing a glance to Gus hiding behind his leg. "You're Mufasa and he's Scar, isn't he. It's a revenge thing."</p><p> </p><p>Noods squawks once, standing up on the chair, fists on her hips. She does a dramatic mic drop, and Dib almost laughs. Almost.</p><p> </p><p>"It's about the eye, isn't it ?" Gus groans quietly.</p><p> </p><p>"It's definitely about the eye," Artie calls from the other side of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Dib doesn't argue with Noods' logic, even though in his opinion HE should be Scar (for obvious reasons), because her brain works in mysterious ways.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, new rule," he says, pointing firmly at the both of them. "Always ask before rough playing. If one of you doesn't feel like it, it's a deal breaker. Good ?"</p><p> </p><p>Gus grumbles a "I <em>guess</em>" under his breath as Noods nods very seriously.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe Dib's not so bad of a father, despite his personal lack of example.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. What's You, What's Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feat. Artie having Questions™, Dib feeling guilty, and a little bit of PAK lore.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hey Da, can I ask you something ?" Artie says, the two boxes of over-sugared cereals forgotten in his grasp.</p><p> </p><p>Dib puts the pack of forty-two candy bars in the cart and glances at him over his shoulder. It's not every day Artie helps with grocery shopping, and Dib is starting to suspect it's not a simple show of good will, but a way to get to speak alone.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, yeah, sure. What's up, frog ?"</p><p> </p><p>Artie shifts awkwardly on his feet, his fake lilac pupils rolling left and right as if he's physically trying to follow his train of thought. Oh boy, that's gonna be a tough one.</p><p> </p><p>"So, like," the smeet starts, putting one box back on the shelf and handing the other one to his dad, "PAKs are... Weird."</p><p> </p><p>Dib hums and picks him up to settle him in the child seat. Artie is becoming too big to ride in there ; there's a roundness to him that, according to Zim, is reminiscent of Skoodge, which means that he might not become ridiculously tall as grows older, but a large portion of his mass is heavy muscle that would make him a great Invader. But Artie being Artie, this physical advantage will most probably be used to smash rocks and whatnot.</p><p> </p><p>"We <em>are</em> the PAKs, right ?"</p><p> </p><p>The human shrugs and pushes the cart in the next aisle, wondering how the hell he's going to make the kids eat veggies this time around.</p><p> </p><p>It's funny how their little family works, sometimes. They imprint onto each-other so much that everyone seems to forget he's not actually Irken. Every once in a while, he's even the one who slips up and includes himself in experiences that are deeply Irken in nature, more often than he cares to acknowledge. A normal human wouldn't know the inner mechanisms of an advanced alien life-form. A normal human wouldn't swear in Irken as much as in English. A normal human wouldn't spend hours analizing lines and lines of coding that dictates the very life of three fifths of his household.</p><p> </p><p>On the other hand, a normal Irken does not sleep or eat on a regular basis. In that regard, the rest of them are definitely not normal.</p><p> </p><p>They're just a bunch of defectives living their best lives and really, what's wrong with that ? It's fine just the way it is.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes and no," he replies after a moment, coming back to himself and the current situation. "Yes, <em>mostly</em>. What you know, the way you remember things ?" He gives a gentle tap on the child's PAK. "It all comes from there. But what you learned, what feels bad, what feels good, it's all your body."</p><p> </p><p>Artie frowns, props his green little elbows on the bar in from of him, deep in thought. Dib has the sudden urge to kiss him on the forehead, and so he does. The smeet giggles and pushes him away, grin wide over definitely inhuman zipper teeth.</p><p> </p><p>"Why d'you ask ?" he enquires, because it's not every day Artie is interested in something else than geology or positively horrifying amounts of glucids.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you think Noods..?" the child trails off, unsure how to formulate the question.</p><p> </p><p>Something squeezes painfully in Dib's gut.</p><p> </p><p>"If she had a PAK, would she be someone else ?" he pushes, trying to find words for his struggling son.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, yes, but-" A pause. "Pa said she was supposed to have my PAK."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And there it is.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"You do realize you're way too young to have an existential crisis, yes ?" he mumbles under his breath, but Artie is spiraling too hard with questions to even hear him.</p><p> </p><p>"Because it was the first one, and she's the first born, and- I mean- If my PAK was on her body. Would that be her ? Or me ? A weird mix of us ? Which part of me is me ? <em>What am I ?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Dib forces himself to take a deep breath, long and heavy, because for a moment he completely forgot how to be a functional being.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, look, the thing is... I don't know. Like, I actually have no clue what would have happened if I- if Noods actually got the PAK, and you... Well, I guess you would have had Gus'. Which is a cursed image all by itself. Anyway, the thing is, I don't know what makes a person, and that's what you're asking me."</p><p> </p><p>Artie hums, worrying the hem of his shirt between his claws.</p><p> </p><p>"But I knows that, to make a person, it takes more than a rational brain," Dib continues, finally deciding on canned peas and carrots to put in the cart. "I know that if we took this PAK off you to put it on Noods, first of all you wouldn't be very okay health-wise after a hot minute, and... And it might actually erase Noods' actual mind. Or what little she has of it."</p><p> </p><p>"...So I would be in control ? Or, <em>no</em>, not me, but the part of me that is my PAK would be in control ?"</p><p> </p><p>"Just like it's in control of you. But what I mean is that the way you PAK is wired is deeply ingrained with the experience you have with this body. Pain and pleasure, hot, cold, dry and wet, it's not like a bunch of numbers and signs know what that means. All it knows is the way your meat-brain interprets it. And, ultimately, I think that if we disconnected your PAK from your body, both parts would actually recognize as Artie, and see the other as an extension - which is not wrong, but it's not completely right either."</p><p> </p><p>There's a lull in the conversation as they decide between two brands of the same paste. They eventually settle for the biggest packaging - after all, they need to cover four highly water-intolerant aliens from head to toe for the next three months of bad weather that marks the Fall in their town.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay but does that mean Noods-with-my-PAK would have Noods' learned feelings or just start from scratch ?"</p><p> </p><p>Dib sighs, at loss. He doesn't know how to convey that<em> he doesn't know</em>. Zim would, but Zim is currently on the other side of the planet, and not here shopping with a very inquisitive smeet. And then he thinks about Gaz who's been bribed into babysitting the other two, and he doesn't feel so bad.</p><p> </p><p>"That's a good question," he admits. "I think it would override her knowledge ? Probably ? Getting a PAK forced upon oneself is more traumatic than getting it from birth, so that would make her a meat puppet instead of an extension of the brain."</p><p> </p><p>A mom and two kids pass by and shoot him a worried glance, but Dib isn't sure if it's because of what he just said or because of his appearance (the dirty lab coat and the green talking toddler might be at play here). He doesn't really care either way.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation ends but by the time they're back to the pickup and charge the groceries into the truck, Dib can't get his mind off the question. He knows he's going to spend the night browsing the incredibly furnished database of the Computer in search of answers, which makes his entire body ache with sleep deprivation already.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>At least Artie seems at peace with the idea of not knowing for sure that he's not just a brain in a meatsuit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I Love You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feat. Zim caring, Dib being a mess, and Zim's three favorite words.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"--And it's fucking primitive if you ask me, but can I really expect anything else from a war that was a whole century ago ?<em> Of course not</em>. Considering how unadvanced human warfare is, still to this day, there's really nothing to be surprised about. It's a miracle really, that it didn't went off the second I picked it up and put it in the ship. Also why is Artie passed out on the couch and drenched in orange juice ? <em>Also also</em>, unrelated but, fair warning, I'm pretty sure I heard Gus say something about "headless chickens" and I really hope he's not talking about his sister because I don't want to ground him into next decade but I will do so if necessary, and y- Dib, are you even listening to me ?"</p><p> </p><p>Dib blinks away from the screen, suddenly realizing that the background noise is actually a voice.</p><p> </p><p>"...Oh, Zim. You're home. Hi."</p><p> </p><p>The Irken scoffs and does a full-body eyeroll.</p><p> </p><p>"Been home for the last twenty minutes, but thanks for noticing." He pauses, squinting, his offended stance withering slightly. "How long have you been sitting there ?" he asks, voice quieter, softer, as he drops his fists from his hips and comes closer.</p><p> </p><p>Dib cringes, the dull pain of a headache fighting with the dryness of his eye - he went to collect his goggles a while ago, but even that can't prevent the slight burn that reminds him he's not fourteen anymore and can't decently spend an all-nighter looking up alien stuff.</p><p> </p><p>"A couple hours," he lies, but immediately corrects himself under Zim's unimpressed glare. "Okay, more like... eighteen."</p><p> </p><p>Zim sighs and pulls the rolling chair closer by the arms, efficiently caging his mate in the seat.</p><p> </p><p>"You," the Invader states, "Need to take your meds, get in the shower and go to bed. In that order."</p><p> </p><p>Another grimace from the human, but Zim is having approximately none of it, and promptly plops himself on his lap.</p><p> </p><p>"I've been away for three days, and somehow you're already all over the place."</p><p> </p><p>"I know," he sighs, snaking his arms around the slim, uniform-clad waist to pull him into a full-body hug. "I missed you."</p><p> </p><p>"I'd say," Zim chuckles, dropping a kiss to his hairline, then another one to his lips. "What would you become without Zim ?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'd probably fuse with the chair from all the inaction going on," he replies dryly, dragging a laugh out of of the other.</p><p> </p><p>"Well you're not allowed to do that. Come on, get up," he nags at him, slithering out of his grasp and pulling him out of the seat. "Where is your medication ?"</p><p> </p><p>Dib scratches his head, trying to remember where he saw the orange bottle for the last time. When was even last time ? At least a couple days ago. <em>Fuck, he's a mess.</em></p><p> </p><p>"Fuck, I'm a mess," he grunts, earning another chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, that's what the meds are for, dumbass."</p><p> </p><p>They eventually find it next to the half-fold laundry pile, which is not something Dib even remembers starting in the first place. He really needs to keep better track of this stuff. He pops two into his mouth, swallowing dry, and shakes his head at the bitter taste, bone-deep weariness suddenly downing on him like a weighted blanket.</p><p> </p><p>"I might just go straight to bed, actually," he says through a yawn, but Zim is already tugging him towards their tiny bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>"Do not take it the wrong way," he says with the tone he uses when he's about to say something that will definitely be taken the wrong way, "But you're absolutely filthy and my standards are not low enough to sleep next to you in this state."</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, thanks a lot," he grumbles, muffled by the shirt being pulled over his head, catching on the chunky metallic rim of the goggles.</p><p> </p><p>"Would it motivate you if Zim went into the shower as well ?"</p><p> </p><p>"Wh-<em>no</em>, I mean yes, but bad idea, the filter is still broken."</p><p> </p><p>"...Right, we really need to fix that."</p><p> </p><p>Dib hums, eyelids heavy, and only stumbles into the shower because Zim pushes him into it to take away his pants.</p><p> </p><p>"Shower," the alien instructs sternly, his tone however not devoid of affection, "Then bed."</p><p> </p><p>Dib hums, turns on the hot water and dissociates for the next fifteen minutes. Zim comes back several times, first with a bar of soap to rid himself of... what even is that stench anyway ? Sewer ? Bog ? Yeah, it's definitely bog water stench - then a second time in a clean shirt to bring Dib fresh pajama pants, and one last time with the kitchen gloves to wash Dib's hair, since he's too out of it to do it himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck, dude, when the meds kick in, they kick in hard," he mutters, and Zim snorts at that.</p><p> </p><p>"Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that you went three days without taking them."</p><p> </p><p>"Hmmm. I need to get better at this."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, you do."</p><p> </p><p>Zim manages to rinse out the shampoo without drenching himself in barely-filtered water before wrapping his human in a towel like a giant burrito. They sit there for a moment, Dib on the floor, Zim propped up behind him on the bathtub's edge to dry his hair.</p><p> </p><p>He almost falls asleep right then and there, while brushing his teeth, gentle green fingers tugging at the knots on the top of his head and massaging the scalp in a way that only comes with experience. Dib wonders if it's what Heaven is supposed to be like. The clawed hands eventually still, and Zim is leaning over him, eyes big and bright and full of- <em>something</em>, Dib is kind of tripping hard and can't really tell what, but he likes it all the same.</p><p> </p><p>"I love you," he hums, squishing his cheek against the naked thigh poking from the oversized shirt.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's get you to bed," Zim replies, pulling him once again back on his feet and this time into the bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>What he calls the bedroom is actually just another one of the base's storage rooms, on the smaller side, but still big enough to shove a decently sized mattress in there and a couple of heavy blankets on top. The only other room like this is Noods' lair, but it has twice the amount of blankets forming a messy nest, plus a curtain turned into a canopy dangling from the ceiling. And a nightlight, because she's scared of the dark sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>Dib's bedroom doesn't have a nightlight. But Dib's bedroom has Zim in it, most nights, so Dib's the real winner here.</p><p> </p><p>Zim, in fact, is pushing him onto the mattress and curling up around his back, warm and protective and happy to be home, and the tension in the human's shoulders finally melt into nothing.</p><p> </p><p>"I love you," he says again, because he needs Zim to know, <em>he needs to be sure Zim knows</em>, "So, so much."</p><p> </p><p>"I love you, too," the alien says, hushed like a confidence, PAK whirring gently behind him. "And I'll still love you tomorrow when you won't be loopy and gooey and high on medication. And I love you even when I'm not here, and I still love you when you neglect yourself because you think you don't deserve maintenance, even if I wish you didn't."</p><p> </p><p>"Ouch, way to call me out," Dib mumbles, brain only half-processing what's being said.</p><p> </p><p>"It's the truth and you know it," Zim replies with his usual stubbornness.</p><p> </p><p>"I love you," Dib repeats, because he's trying to get his point across, but he's exhausted from too many all-nighters and too much coffee and not enough follow-up with his prescription and-</p><p> </p><p>Zim presses his lips on the back of his neck. It's solid and warm and Dib might be just a little touch-starved on the edges.</p><p> </p><p>"Go to sleep, Dib-love. I got you."</p><p> </p><p>-And somehow Zim seems to get it. Because for all Zim talks, he also <em>listens</em>, and while it's frustrating to be unable to put words on his own feelings, Dib is infinitely grateful to be heard. When he finally falls asleep, it's with the shadow of a smile dancing on his lips, and Zim's hands in his.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fic's title is a translation of lyrics from a Bigflo &amp; Oli's song. Please leave comments and kudos !</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>